What it’s like being a trans male drag king

Josh Richardson Features Writer

Back in 2017, I came out as trans and started medically transitioning in 2019. While my medical transition was basically complete, I’m still discovering things about myself and becoming more confident in who I am. Becoming a drag king has certainly helped this growth.

The first few years of transitioning were tough, as I’m sure it is for most people. I was constantly second guessing myself and worried about if I was “passing”. “Passing” means you look and act like a cisgender person, and your transness is not identifiable. For a lot of trans people, being able to pass affords you safety and a freedom to interact in society with less anxiety. For me, the fear of not passing caused me a great deal of stress which led me to develop mental health issues.

For the first three years of my transition, I was in Surrey, a place that isn’t particularly open- minded - it’s a place where your only option as a queer person is to move somewhere elsewhere when you’re old enough. I was part of a LGBT+ choir in my hometown, but I was only out as gay, not trans. At this point in my transition, my voice had dropped and my face looked more masculine, allowing me to pass as cisgender. There were times in the choir where the people I’d sing with would whisper transphobic comments to me about the other trans members of the choir, not realising that I was also trans. When the choir went on holiday for Christmas, I didn’t return; I didn’t feel safe.

When I was applying for universities, going to a city that was queer-friendly was one of my top priorities. After being accepted into UEA, I was very excited to slot myself into Norwich’s queer community and finally feel accepted. My boyfriend, who’s a drag queen, had been following the Norwich drag scene for a while, so from what I’d heard, I would feel at home here. From attending my first Norwich drag show in 2021, I never thought it would be me up on that stage one day. I’d enjoyed watching Drag Race but it was my perception that you had to be a drag queen to be a successful artist, and the dragrelated media didn’t help lessen that view. My dysphoria at that time wouldn’t have allowed me to wear feminine clothing, so I settled for just being a fan of drag - performing as a drag king didn’t even cross my mind. It wasn’t until I started going to local drag shows that I realised just how encompassing drag can be because everyone can do it.

My “drag awakening” if you will, came from seeing Prinx Chiyo in 2021. He started his performance wearing a rhinestone chest binder and finished the performance proudly displaying his top surgery scars. When I saw this, I realised that could be me up there. Cut to the present day, I now perform as Blue Monday, an eighties, goth inspired drag king, with my transness playing an important role.

To me, and I’m sure many others, drag is political; by its very nature, drag is a way for queer people to break out of heteronormative structures and be free from the pressures of behaving in a certain way. With this in mind, drag shows are one of the only places I’m able to witness unapologetic queerness take centre stage and be celebrated. The societal view on trans people unfortunately becomes more hostile with each passing day; it’s terrifying to see how much some people hate your very existence, but drag gives me a space to be authentically me. I try to use the little platform I do have to make statements about trans issues whilst embracing my trans body and playing with ideas of masculinity that I find hard to express elsewhere. I get to celebrate myself and how uniquely awesome it is to be trans. With Ru Paul’s Drag Race being so mainstream, people are more aware of drag now - but only specific types of drag. Drag Race is still yet to cast a drag king, which is surprising considering its success. Ru Paul moulds his contestants to fit within his ideals of dragfavouring those with long luscious wigs, pretty makeup and feminine silhouettes etc. These ideals have seeped into the audience’s minds and created the illusion that drag kings aren’t as interesting as drag queens. So, drag kings, especially those that are trans or non-binary, aren’t given the same opportunities and must work harder just to be visible in their own community.

I am so grateful for the Norwich drag scene who see the value and importance of drag kings. They’ve taken me under their wing and I feel so safe and so cherished here. As queer people, we often must find where we belong and people who are like us. There are people in the Norwich drag scene who I consider my chosen family and I wouldn’t be where I am without them. There seems to be a drag king “revolution” happening in Norwich, and I couldn’t be happier about it.